Typical Day for Prowl
Transformers 2K5 - Prowl - lundi, août 11, 2014, 1:54 ------------------------------------------------------ Security Room - Decagon(#10403Rnt) - Iacon A multitude of monitors cover most of the walls that make up the security room. It is here that the Autobots' elaborate web of sensor network grids is vigilantly monitored by Autobot military personnel. This includes key tactical locations underground, on the surface, near city perimeters, and even the region of space around Cybertron. Contents: Red Alert's Desk Sensor Station Obvious exits: East leads to Command Center - Decagon. Shiftlock arrives from the Command Center - Decagon to the east. Shiftlock has arrived. Prowl is sitting at a temporary desk. There is a big pile of armored (and locked) crates behind him. Multiple Holos are floating above the desk. Some scrolling a news feed from Cybertron and Galactic, maps of Nova Cronum, maps Retoris where the wall was attacked. So far he seems rather immobile and immersed in the info. There's a signal at the door, and the security systems indicate that Shiftlock is waiting outside. Prowl presses the buzzer "Come in Shiftlock." Shift makes her way in and gives Prowl an appropriate salute. Ultra Magnus taught her well. "Afternoon, sir." Prowl nods and pauses some of his work. "Good afternoon Shiftlock." He motions to the empty chair "What's on your mind?" Straight to the point as always. Shiftlock enjoys it when people are straight to the point. "Simply put, sir, I need to update myself on the current situation, discuss strategy, and find out where I can best be put to use. Arcee had some suggestions for myself but I thought I'd converse with someone who has more experience in grand strategy." Prowl nods "Fair enough. First I would need to know what were Arcee's suggestions. Her objectives could be more pressing than mine and I do not want to screw up Military's short term plans." He leans back in the chair listening with interest but probably at the same time gauging something. "She wants me to use my experience and intel with the Crystal Sentinels to get a feel for what's going on in Crystal City right now. Buzzsaw is apparently working the area, and she'd like to know the state of affairs, and how potentially compromised the remaining cells are," Shiftlock explains. "She's also cautioned me that this could potentially be a suicide mission if I'm caught." Prowl frowns a little bit "I see...My opinion is that Crystal City...is not worth the trouble...at this moment." Yeah sounds cold but probably true. "Arcee's idea has merit but not without backup. The information on the Crystal Sentinels is not worth an Autobot's life. We have bigger problems right now, like the constant focus on Retoris and we have trouble brewing in Tarn and Nova Cronum that will require us to move fast." His gaze wonders over to a news feed that is still empty "Right now I am waiting for information from an agent. That information will decide our next step with the Nova Cronum situation. Until then, you are free to pursue the Crystal City angle BUT..." He raises two fingers to let no doubt as to what he means... "Two backup with you...no less." He looks like he is trying to recall something "Oh yes. Did I hear somewhere that Buzzsaw has it in for you?" "Yes," Shiftlock replies. "I think it has to do specifically with the fact that I held a position of rank among the Crystal Sentinels. Possible personal motives have to do with the fact that he received grievous bodily injury at my hands during our last encounter." Prowl dismisses that last part. "Ignore him then. Do not get baited by him. Given the choice, let someone else handle him. It will be all the more insulting to him and will eventually cause him to start making mistakes." He smiles a bit...Yes someone might think he enjoys torturing people emotionally. "Do you have any recommendations for me in terms of missions, projects or other duties? I'm finding it very refreshing to speak with someone who simply cuts to the chase and isn't trying sell me on the values of love and friendship," Shiftlock says. Prowl shakes his head "Aside from the the Nova Cronum situation no. Depending on what news comes back. We might have to pull a quick extraction of both agent and another individual. If this happens, you skills as a diversionary tactician will be most useful in covering the extraction. I still need to talk with Rodimus about my own duties. Once that is clarified, I might have some more for you. Until then, keep your audios sharp be safe and be ready to move fast." "Will do, sir," Shiftlock responds with a satisfied smile. "I won't take any more of your time, then." Prowl nods and returns to his holo-work. He presses button and the door opens. "If there is anything else, do not hesitate to contact me." Shiftlock moves east to the Command Center - Decagon. Shiftlock has left. **** Travel Spam You move southwest to the Maccadam's Old Oil House, Translucentica Heights. Maccadam's Old Oil House, Translucentica Heights(#10420Rnt) - Iacon Inside, Maccadam's Old Oil House is a chaotic shambles, most of the time. The chain has set up shop within Iacon as the Autobots' personal dive bar. While the bar will serve anyone, Rocky, the doorman and bouncer, who looks a bit like he might turn into an ape, doesn't seem overly concerned about breaking up fights, unless the bar is seriously imperiled. There is an upper level ringing the main floor, with seating and tables, for patrons who prefer to look down on the rest of the bar from behind the handrails - handrails that would do nothing to stop a determined patron from chucking another patron to the floor. There is a framed pictured on one of the walls of a rather nondescript robot, but aside from that, the bar is fairly sparse in decoration, lacking the kitsch that some bars affect, its purpose clear. There are a number of bartenders, from a burly female in an apron, to protect her from some of the more caustic blends, to a bartender straight out of an old time Western, with a jolly metal moustache. There is an unassuming brown player piano in the corner. Maccadam, the manager himself, is a mysterious figure, rumoured to have been built by Primus himself. Of course, that rumour is probably just nonsense brought on by the exceptionally pure fuel in the drinks. Contents: Roadbuster Arcee Punch Piano Bartenders Obvious exits: North leads to Translucentica Heights. Northeast leads to Sub-Level Six Quadrant. Bumblebee has arrived. Getting down from the countertop Punch takes the bottle and a fresh glass. He pours himself a drink. Arcee is up at the bar, enjoying 2-4-1 oilshots while the special's going on. Roadbuster is sitting in a 'big mechs' booth in a corner, having already gone through his shots and now working on the 'big mug' (aka a pitcher to himself) of energex. Sitting alone, since he's the only oversized mech here at the moment. Hailing one of the staff Punch requests a larger glass, a few more ingredients and a large jug. He then, calmly and quickly, proceeds to mix them all together. Adding one final thing palmed from subspace he then proceeds to try and drink the contents before the newly combined mixture eats through the jug. After consuming the mixture Punch sighs with relief, tips his head back, gets and lights two cigs from his arm compartment and proceeds to puff away happily. The 2-4-1 oilshots special is now over, but Arcee's still up at the bar, joining in with some of the conversations of the 'regulars'. Prowl walks into Maccadam to grab a little something to keep the energy level up before putting in an all-nighter of data analysis and war scenarios. Bumblebee has connected. Arcee notices Prowl, and her cheer level drops a couple of notches. She almost anticipates the strategist will come have a seat beside her and begin talking about who to send down to Nova Cronum. Which...yes, she would like to know more about the mystery transmissions, absolutely, but she isn't the sort who wants to focus on work all cycle every cycle, she just can't function that way. Continuing to smoke Punch, quite concisely, signals he'd like the same again. He puts a significant amount of money to cover more than the cost of the various ingredients as well as a replacement for the ruined jug and the jug he's about to ruin as well. Silently he continues his twin cigs carefully noting the curl and shape of the smoke as it rises. Prowl grabs his energon drink (nothing fancy) nods to Punch "Hey there Punch." He walks over to Arcee with a respectful nod "Good evening Arcee. Heard about the convoy thing last night. Good teamwork." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- From: Fathom (Conn) Date: Mon Aug 11 17:09:59 2014 Folder: 0 Message: 3 Status: Unread Subject: Mysterious Broadcasts ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- To Prowl and Punch: Punch's contacts are somewhat tight-lipped about the broadcasts. They reply indirectly or not at all, and the information they give up is largely useless or vague. The only thing Punch can glean is that there is a lot of hate from the oppressed neutrals of Nova Cronum, towards the 'cons that played a major role in capturing the territory. The only festival around this time is the Price of the Burning Star, a holiday practiced by desert mechs who have not been since since the dawn of war. But... Solstice, Wraith, Arcee, Spindrift and Rewind know the location of a neutral city of desert settlers, beneath the oxide dunes of the Rust Seas. The Autobots are in good standing with them. To note, these may be leads to nowhere. You can try to piece together what you've learned, or send Punch to ask neutrals in more specific locations, OR wait for another broadcast and try to trace it. Let me know! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- Arcee grins with some surprise at Prowl. Now THAT...she hadn't been expecting that. "Thank you! Next time you see Defcon, thank him, too because it originated with him, then he got the Wreckers involved and it just got better from there." She also gives a wave to Punch, who she's just noticed over there. Gaze still skyward Punch says "Hi there Prowl." as he passes. The ingredients arrive. He mixes them. Palm from subspace. Consume. All with his head unchanged in it's position. Just watching the smoke rise. Passively his free hand returns the wave but the other systems processing his thoughts are like the postition of his head. Locked in place. Prowl smiles (a bit) "I will. Anything else new come up on your side?" He stands for now, drinking a bit of energon while Arcee talks. Arcee feels really, really good. She's nice and toasty from an afternoon of oil-shots on special, celebrating with friends, and apparently having an amiable conversation with some Iacon civilians up at the bar. Prowl is chatting with Arcee about last night. Punch is either deep in thought or really interested where the ceiling beams came from. Springer walks into the bar after having to leave suddenly before.. his armor a bit torn up, but no real damage, and beelines for the bar, ordering one of his stronger favorites. "Hey Seven!! Come on over here, Prowl thinks we did a great job!" Arcee calls down the row to Springer. Prowl takes asip from his drink and nods at Springer "Indeed. Nice work on the convoy last night. You guys threw a wrench in the Decepticon supply line that's for sure." Springer walks to the table carrying his drink, "Everyone did their tasks. Though Shockwave being there to guard it.. and how often he's been seen in the general area worries me." He settles down.. and doesnt blink as something on him makes a mild grinding noise. Jazz arrives from the Sub-Level Six Quadrant to the northeast. Jazz has arrived. The doors open to admit the form of Jazz, who looks around with that cool blue optical visor of his and then offers a little smile to the oil house at large. He walks inside and heads to the bar, ordering something in a quiet tone before looking around for a likely place to flop himself into. The spy Meister looks decidedly 'off duty' at the moment, his manner relaxed and relaxing as he finally heads over and settles into a chair at a table nearby others, waiting for his drink as he leans far back in the chair, balancing it on two metallic legs as he stares up at the ceiling. "Hey Jazz!" Arcee's feeling every bit the party girl tonight, because the payoff for targeted retaliation has been really, really good. Also, the drink specials during happy hour were particularly good. Also up at the bar is Prowl (not a party animal, but who's going to stop him from being there?), and Springer (who probably isn't a party animal, either). Jazz looks over as his name is called, smiling as he lifts one hand and wiggles his fingers in greeting. "Heya Arcee, what's the haps?" he asks curiously as he hears his drink arriving. Leaning waaaay back in his seat, he looks up at the femmebot delivering the drink and grins, "Thanks hot stuff," he says cheerfully to her as he hands over payment for the enerhol and then picks up the glass, taking a long sip as he leans up a bit. "Hope ya'll don' mind a little company..needed ta get outta th' office a bit." Prowl sips and smiles at his old buddy. "Heya Jazz." Prowl grabs a seat because it looks like he just might stay a bit longer. "Hey, I don't mind one bit. We need to be *very* proud of our accomplishments from here on out. Not to get TOO overconfident, but I think it's important that we recognize that we CAN retaliate in kind, we can show those clowns we're not going to tolerate their garbage anymore!" Arcee grins proudly. Jazz hrms at that, but then glances over at Prowl and waves, "Hey Prowl, whatcha doin' lurkin' around in a place like this?" he asks in a teasing tone..the implication that Prowl is lurking seeming to amuse him. Then his optical visor focuses back on Arcee, "I heard about that little assault, good for letting off steam, but I'm not sure how much of a strategic set back it would be. I think we might need'ta get the band back together a bit, get the intel coordinatin' with the military and find some better targets for you all to go and blow to smithereens..maybe get some equipment to fix the wall in the process." he says before taking a long pull off his drink. Solstice has arrived. Prowl chuckles at Jazz's comment "Not lurking." He motions his drink "Just came for a little jolt before putting in an all-nighter. Working on something and it is not progressing as fast as I would like." He leans back in his chair his datapad sitting next to him and he keeps an optic on a news feed. Solstice meanders into the old oil house, theoretically here for a quick pick me up before she hies on back to Iacon. She's a bit road dust covered and is sporting a thoughtful frown as footfalls take her to the bar proper. "Yes, I agree," Arcee admits to Jazz. "I just say...when you're in overdriver and manage to make it over a terrible hill, it's okay to celebrate on the way down the other side, even though there's a bigger hill ahead." She sips her drink. Jazz looks over at Arcee and nods, "I get that and all, an Prime knows ain' been much to celebrate lately. Glad you guys managed to get us one in the win column..but we gotta make something count and make it count soon or we're gonna be losing ground so fast it'll make yer tires spin. There's a momentum in these things, and they're buildin' it all up on their side.." he says with a sigh. To Prowl he says, "don' work too hard ol' buddy..make yer brain sizzle and ye'll end up a lambo twin.." with a little smirk of amusement. Arcee hears this sort of criticism a lot. It's...probably not what she wants to hear. Because if she thinks too hard about Elita's broken body in the medbay, it makes her cry. If she thinks too much about all the ground they've lost and are continuing to lose, it makes her sick to her spark. So while Arcee recognizes the wisdom in Jazz's very tempered remarks, she doesn't want to hear them. At all. Couple that with the fact she's been here with the Wreckers all day ordering oil-shots, and...Arcee's just not in a very good mood to take constructive criticism. "Yeah, well SLAGGIT, I'm HAPPY we killed their freight car." She SLAMS down her drink on the bar, and leaves a generous tip of Shanix for the waitstaff. "I am so happy, I feel like...like a room without a roof!" With a sniff of disdain, she begins stalking toward the exit, nearly colliding into Solstice. "Oh, hi. Go get yourself a drink. Tell them to put it on the 'Wreckers Fuel Fund' tab." With that, Arcee heads right out of the bar, probably back to the Decagon. Arcee moves northeast to the Sub-Level Six Quadrant. Arcee has left. A deep intake finishes off the cigs and Punch returns to a somewhat more regular posture. He looks around the room. He knows what he said before. He was wrong. He can't be sure who was involved. Not really. Nothing tangible in terms of names, information or even locale to rely upon. It's sickening. A double dose of the stabilser compound he'd use when poisoned, mixed with a few things to kill the truly awful taste of it, didn't even slow the nausea. It's a joke. A sick one at that. He's the Punch-line at the end of it too. It probably should sting but . . . at least he knows this much. Politely asking for a mild grade and severely overtipping again in the process Punch slumps forward a fraction but defeated as a whole. Prowl searches the internet for a comeback for Jazz's joke. Fails to find anything that does not imply his 'mother' and goes for the easy way out "It takes more than that to make my brain sizzle. I do admit the thought of a third lambo twin is frightning." His optics focus on Arcee as he evaluates her state and wonders if another citation will be required...His attention switches to Punch slumping forward "You ok there buddy? You looked straight as a titanium rod a few minutes ago. Mixed the wrong type of energon?" Solstice started to raise a hand to wave at a few familiar faces before she finds herself nearly bowled over by Arcee. She looks very startled, roused out of her moment of self introspection as she rocks back on heels. "Oh.. hi?" Blink-blink. Door wings wibbling behind her. "Oh... dear.." She frowns, looking at the door as it closes before continuing her walk to the bar. "One standard grade please, sir." she asks the 'tender rather politely, depositing her own creds in place. She's not a Wrecker and not about to get on their bad side. Okay, it's honestly seldom that Jazz looks absolutely shocked, but this is one of those rare occassions. He's usually a bit smoother than that, evidence of how bad things have been lately that he doesn't seem to realize he's making Arcee think he's coming down on her. His optic visor looks..stunned..before he downs the rest of his drink, "Ya'll scuse me, I think I'd better go apologize before that sets in.." he says as he hops up and heads for the door himself. He's not one to leave things to fester when he upsets someone..usually. "Nope." Punch says as he stands easily and elegantly. "I got screwed. By who? Couldn't tell you . . . I don't know. Why? I can guess . . . but it's cliche and doesn't help. When? for longer than my whole pathetic existence. If you can do more with that then you're easily better than me but, honestly, that isn't hard to achieve. Otherwise . . . I'm just fine" he says bitterly taking a sip of his drink to try and clear the taste. Jazz moves north to the Translucentica Heights. Jazz has left. ZZZTT Something just sizzled in Prowl's brain. Punch's awnser was pretty weird and hard to follow and rather random...or was it. "I think you better slow down on the drinking. You do not sound like yourself. Sounds like you need some time off the clock and into a timed recharge bed. Turn everything off for a little while. Helps you focus back when you wake up." Solstice picks her drink up and takes a seat, looking about cautiously as she sips. A little wiggle of a side panel and she pulls a small data pad out, adorned with stickers with random saying in place. Thumbing it on, she starts reading. Swoop arrives from the Sub-Level Six Quadrant to the northeast. Swoop has arrived. "Wrong. If I hadn't had all this extra time 'off the clock' I wouldn't have had the time to find I was made into the realisation of someone else's dream. A dream within a nightmare within a dream but who is the dreamer? It's a good question. Paraphrased badly by myself. I'm distraught as I've realised everything about who I am that anyone's interested in in any way is an after market installed mockery and that I, Punch, am an afterthought. Worst part is, right now Prowl, I'm stone cold sober. I wish I wasn't. No, worst part is any Autobot out there could have did this to me and I'll never know." Punch takes another sip of his drink. It clears the bitter taste but does nothing for the pain or the self revulsion. Robot Pteranodon makes his way into the bar. Why? ...who knows why. There's no fights here. NEVER. And there's also no Decepticons... which is probably not more than a simple coincidence. He hunts down a perch and looks around. "Where Pink?" He narrows his optics for a moment. "Swoop need know something to do!" There's a pause. "Swoop not /need/ something, just need know where most important to do it!" "Swoop. Arcee, if that's whom you are referring to, is most likely back in her office within the decagon." Punch says simply. Prowl continues to try and make sense of Punch's rant but the abstract is not his forte. He tries to break it down and solve the problems individually. Yes maybe that will work. "Allright, one thing at a time. What after market installed mockery? What do you mean an afterthought of your own spark? Any Autobot out there could have done /what/ to you?" The Dinobot is about to respond, but Prowl catches his attention. He remains silent all the while, thinking over what he's just overheard... Something's wrong. He narrows his optics a moment and looks at Punch critically. Still, he remains quiet. No need to interrupt if something important is happening. "The first and third question are the same thing. Ask Prime or Jazz for the answer if you don't actually know already. Once they explain you'll be able to make sense of this. I am the afterthought. Everyone wants that classified bit of equipment not me." Punch waves a hand dismissing the rest of his thought process. "Forget it. That's what people do about me. Forget it." With that he walks to the door. ***** *** * * * * * * *** *** **** * * *** * * * * *** * * *** *** ** * * ** * ** * *** *** *** * * *** *** * * * * *** **** * * *** * * * * *